Tested Like Job: What the Valley Seasons Are Actually For
Job was, quote unquote, “a good man,” yet he was stripped of everything he held dear. He was tested to the point of almost breaking — just so God could show him something.
Here’s the short version of the book of Job, since it’s a lengthy one: Job truly was righteous. He had a wonderful, large family, extensive possessions, livestock, servants — life was good. Then Satan comes before the Lord and essentially says, “Sure, Job loves You now. But what happens if I strip all of this away from him?” And God allows it. Satan only ever has the power God permits him to have, and here, God permits the test.
Everything is taken from Job — his servants, his possessions, his animals, his entire family, gone. Eventually even his health is stripped away. In the beginning, Job falls to his knees and still praises God. But as more is taken, he begins to wrestle. His friends show up, seemingly in support at first, but they turn and begin to rebuke him — because as it turns out, Job is wrestling with his own pride the whole time.
As Job spirals into despair and self-pity, he begins questioning God outright: I’m good. I’m righteous. Why is this happening to me? And underneath that question is the very thing God is about to address — Job’s pride.
The Spiritual Spanking
In chapter 38, God finally speaks — and what follows is what I like to call a loving but very firm spiritual spanking. Job 38:1-7 (CSB) reads: “Then the LORD answered Job from the whirlwind. He said: Who is this who obscures my counsel with ignorant words? Get ready to answer me like a man; when I question you, you will inform me. Where were you when I established the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who fixed its dimensions? Certainly you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? What supports its foundations, or who laid its cornerstone while the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?”
God continues for several more chapters like this — walking Job through the vastness of creation, essentially asking, if you’re so wise and so righteous, where were you when I did all of this? It’s not cruelty. It’s correction, aimed at revealing to Job exactly how small his perspective really was.
Eventually, Job gets it. In chapter 42, he responds to the Lord: “I know that you can do anything and no plan of yours can be thwarted… Surely I spoke about things I did not understand, things too wondrous for me to know… I had heard reports about you, but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore, I reject my words, and I am sorry for them. I am dust and ashes” (Job 42:2-6, CSB).
Job repents. And God restores him — doubles his possessions, gives him a new family, and lets him live to a ripe old age.
A Much Smaller Version of the Same Lesson
My story pales in comparison to Job’s, obviously, but I had my own small taste of “tested to the brink” not long ago. My daughter and I drove down to Branson, Missouri for a homeschool convention — laughing the whole way, listening to a Jane Austen audiobook, having the time of our lives.
We got to our Airbnb, and I started noticing ants. A few at first, then more, then an actual infestation crawling across the kitchen counter and sink. I called the property owner, and she sent over a maintenance man who solved the problem with exactly one can of Raid, sprayed generously around the sink, before declaring the job done and leaving.
We went to bed hopeful. We woke up to ants inside our sealed loaf of bread, and more ants climbing the bathroom sink — including, I believe, one on my actual toothbrush. That was my breaking point. I called the landlord, who kindly offered to move us to another property across town.
We packed everything back up, drove across town, and walked down the steps to our new unit — directly into an entire flock of angry mother birds dive-bombing our heads, apparently teaching their babies to fly from a nest tucked above the doorway. We screamed, threw luggage everywhere, and eventually made it inside, only for me to walk into the bathroom and discover the toilet hadn’t been flushed by the previous guest. My daughter laughed. I nearly lost it entirely.
Then, getting ready to finally head to the conference, I realized I’d left my shower loofah back at the first Airbnb — and I burst into tears in the shower over it. Not because a loofah is a big deal. Because by that point, I was simply broken open.
We made it to the conference on time somehow, and once we arrived, it was full of exactly the wisdom my heart needed to hear — nuggets I don’t think I would have been as receptive to if I hadn’t already been cracked open by the absurdity of the previous 24 hours.
The Mount Blessing Objective
Here’s what I’ve come to call the Mount Blessing Objective. When we’re on the mountaintop — comfortable, blessed, life going smoothly — we tend to get complacent. We stop being grateful, and we slide into what I call the plateau, which feels safe but is actually one of the most dangerous places to be spiritually.
When we get too comfortable there, something eventually breaks us open, and we tumble down into the valley — a season of being stripped, tested, humbled, like Job, like my ant-and-bird-and-loofah disaster of a trip. But that valley is exactly where the wisdom lives. It’s where we fall to our knees, lift our eyes to God, and finally ask, show me my next step.
From there, once we’ve wrestled through the lesson and received what God wants to teach us, we start climbing what I call the hill of growth — implementing everything we learned in the valley, moving back up toward the mountaintop. And then, inevitably, the cycle begins again. God never intended for us to stay stagnant. He gave us an entire book of wisdom because He wants us continually growing, not settled.
If You’re in the Valley Right Now
If you’re being tested like Job right now — if you’re down in that valley season — get quiet and get intentional about discovering what God is trying to show you. Lift your eyes to Him. Get still enough to actually hear it. He has something to teach you there, just like He did for Job, and just like He did for me on that unforgettable trip to Branson.
A Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank You that sometimes we are tested like Job. You’re so good and kind to us — very rarely this extreme, more often just the small, inconvenient things that still stretch us. But You use whatever You have to use, faithfully, to draw us closer to You. Thank You for the hard times, the challenges, and the valley seasons, because they grow us stronger and deeper in our faith. Continue to be with us in every moment. We love You and we praise You, in Jesus’ name, amen.
Let’s Stay Connected
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I’ll see you next time.